


Suns and Garnets

by Dove1011



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Dwalin's adorable, Dwalin's not good with other cultures, F/M, Forgive Me, Gen, I am not typing all those names, I took a non-existent knowledge of irish culture and murdered it with an axe, I'm so sorry, M/M, and Balin gets an accent when he's frustrated, and added gypseys, balin is not good with kids, dwalin is though!, especially freckles, or freckles, seriously he's a puppy, way too many headcannons involved here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-07 11:04:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dove1011/pseuds/Dove1011
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dwalin rescues a female child, he has to deal with raising a child of another race, among other things. Other things including, but not being limited to: Crazy Princes, stubborn kings, new languages, language barriers, soul mates, soul marks, and overly ambitious authors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Keeva

**Author's Note:**

> I can't decide if I should apologize for this or not. To be totally fair.... just not going to. Yea....
> 
> I swear, following chapters will be longer. I just need to post this now or I never will.
> 
> Also, this poor thing features several varying head-cannons of mine, including those of various ancient cultures. I'm so sorry.  
> I totally googled the Gaelic. 
> 
> Do really think I would be writing this if I owned it?

Dwalin glared at the small girl-child struggling in his brother’s arms, while he nursed his aching, bleeding hand. He and Balin had fished the girl out of a river, half-drowned and covered in mud and muck. When she’d realized that two total strangers had hold of her, the little lass had panicked, thrashing about and sinking her teeth into the nearest fleshy surface, which just so happened to have been Dwalin’s hand. Balin had managed to pull her off, which allowed Dwalin to bandage his injure hand. Now, Balin was attempting to convince the struggling brat-child to remove her outer clothing, which was not only covered in muck, but was soaked through as well. 

“Come now, Lassie, you need outa these clothes! Ye’ll catch yer death!” The attempts that Balin made did little to calm the small human, if anything they served only to panic her even more.

Finally losing his temper, Dwalin stood and stalked over to where the other two sat. Taking hold of the girl’s scruff, he pulled her out of Balin’s arms. He deposited her on the other side of the small campfire, then stomped over to the packs and pulled out a spare shirt and trousers. Stalking back over to the wide-eyed girl, he dropped the clothes into her arms and glared. 

“Look lass, we’ll not have ye dying of the cold just yet, not so soon after we’ve fished ye out of the river, at least. Put these on, and we can see about cleanin’ and dryin’ yer others, yea?” He directed the girl towards the bushes, “Then come back and tell us yer name. We can’t go about callin’ ya ‘Lassie’ now can we?”

The girl’s bewildered stare didn’t lessen as she looked at the cloths in her lap, then back at Dwalin. She repeated the gesture twice before she gathered the cloth in her arms and stumbled towards the bushes. She paused once, and stared over her shoulder for a moment before disappearing behind the bush. 

As she changed, Balin began to cook the stew Dwalin had been preparing earlier. As the stew simmered Balin and Dwalin began to converse, quickly and quietly.

"What are we going to do with her, Dwalin? There's not anyone nearby, and I'm not so sure she's old enough to look after herself!"

"Of course she's na old enough to look after herself. She barely looks old enough for twenty-five, let alone sixty or seventy-five! We canna leave her here until we find her folks." 

Dwalin didn't understand why Balin looked so amused, but, before he could ask, the little girl stumbled out from behind the bushes. She had shed her tattered dress and replaced it with a large blue tunic which hung down past her knees. She had also pulled her dark, curly red hair out of its thin cloth restraint, which allowed it to frizz up into a wild mane which rivaled Gloin's on the worst of days.

The three of them stared at each other for several moments until the little girl's stomach growled loudly enough for them all to hear. Her pale skin flushed a dark red, and, when the blush and the dwarves chuckles had faded, the light brown spots covering her face, neck, and what they could see of her limbs became much more pronounced. Dwalin worried over what those spots could mean, 'was she just dirty? or was she sick? or, perhaps, was it the way her people located their soul-mates? Did they look for a matching pattern?' He decided, however, that the mystery of the spots could wait until later when her stomach growled once more.

"Come on then, let's eat, 'fore it cools." Dwalin attempted to direct her towards the bowl that Balin had prepared, but no matter what he said the girl just blinked at him, until, finally, he jabbed his finger in the direction of the bowls, prompting the girl to look over. Upon realizing that there where, in fact, three bowls laid out, the child pointed excitedly at herself, and then the bowls. 

Dwalin, hoping she had understood, nodded. 

The girl beamed, then plopped down next to Balin and began to eat. As they ate the girl slowly began to chatter at them. She talked and talked and talked entirely in a language that neither he nor Balin knew. It sounded musical, if ever so slightly guttural. They stopped eating and stared at her until she realized they didn't understand what she was saying. The chatter tapered off leaving both parties eyeing each other in confusion. They stared for several minutes until the girl bit her lip and hesitantly spoke.

"Cad is ainm duit?" Though neither Balin nor Dwalin understood what was said, they could, and did, make an educated guess. Especially when she was pointing at them in open confusion.

Feeling like a fool Dwalin pointed at himself, then grumbled, "Dwalin."

Following his example, Balin pointed at himself, "Balin."

They figured that they could leave off the "at your service," for the time being.

The girl gave them a relieved smile, repeated their names as she pointed at them in turn, then pointed at herself, "Keeva!"


	2. Freckles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freckles, baths, soul marks, sadness, and confusion. Mostly confusion.
> 
>  
> 
> Reading maps of Middle Earth is way too hard.

Keeva was a cheerful child. Once they'd established who they were, she'd been all smiles as she helped Dwalin wash up and lay out the bedrolls. By mutual agreement Balin and Dwalin decided to share a bedroll and give Keeva the other, though they placed it next to their own. By the time they had eaten and been introduced it had become dark enough to sleep, with their fire being the only light except for that provided by the moon and stars.

After they directed Keeva to the bedroll, they waited until she fell asleep before discussing their immediate plans for the future.

"No, Balin, no. We're na gonna leave her here! We can leave her in the next town or somewhat, but we're na leavin' her here! Na even on the edge of the woods. No."

"Dwalin, what do we know about human children? Eh? Nothing, that's what! She's no Dwarf, Dwalin; she'll not survive our life. We've no proper home for her, and you know it! We can't take care of her. We can't even understand her! Nor she us!"

Dwalin knew well enough that Balin was right. Neither of them had any idea what Keeva had been telling them, and neither could they take the time to teach her. Thorin had sent them out into the human lands to earn gold for their people, and they'd had no luck at it so far. They'd passed the River Lune and headed south, but in every village they'd stopped in they'd been turned away. Only a few of the villages had even let them sleep in the inn, coin or no. They could but barely feed themselves, they couldn't afford a third mouth. And a child who couldn't even speak Westeron? No one would hire her to run errands or messages; she could earn them no coin.

Dwalin heaved a sigh, "Aye, yer right, and I know it. We can't keep her. But I'll na let her go afore we reach a town of Men! I'm na gonna abandon her to the wilds."

Balin nodded, not entirely willing to leave the little human, Keeva, he reminded himself, alone in the wild. For Balin knew, more so than Dwalin, how starvation, and the fear of it, could destroy a person, no matter the species. Balin had experienced that horror first hand as a dwarrow, and had never forgotten. Or forgiven.

It had been during the Wandering Days that his soulstone had flickered and died. Every Dwarf knew, and dreaded, what that meant. His other half, the being who completed him, the one who would love him, and be loved by him for all eternity, had died. Died before they'd ever so much as set eyes on each other. Now, all Balin could do was have patience that his time would soon come to an end. All that kept him tied to the world was his brother. His brother whose stone had died like his own had.

Oh, he knew, logically, that since his stone hadn't cracked he had another chance, a new soulmate, a new chance. He just couldn't quite manage to believe that the whole in his heart, the jagged hole in his soul that had opened when the light had dimmed, that it would ever heal. That any being alive could bring him joy enough for that.

The pain was worse for knowing that Dwalin had suffered the same, still suffered the same, though he had more hope than Balin did. Dwalin's stone had died not long after Balin's had, and, like Balin's, it hadn't cracked. And then, 63 years ago, Dwalin's stone had shone once more. It had shone bright white, then faded into the dull cream of a soulstone that had never been near its match. Dwalin was lucky, a new soulmate had been born for him, he would have a second chance for happiness.

Balin wasn't willing to risk his brother for a child of Man, no matter how young, but, as he lied next to Dwalin, he knew he wasn't willing to let the child die either.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

When Keeva opened her eyes the next morning, Dwalin and Balin had made breakfast and were waiting for her to wake. She stumbled over to them, blinking sleep out of her eyes. Now that the sun was out, Dwalin could see that the spots on her face did, in fact, appear on her arms and legs. The pale brown spots worried him, especially since there were so many of them, but he supposed that they could just be dirt. He'd have to somehow convince the child to bathe in the river.

As Keeva finished eating, Dwalin motioned for her to follow him towards the river. Although she trailed after him obediently, he could see that she became more and more nervous the closer they came to the river. As he stepped onto the shore, he realized that no footsteps followed him. Turning around he located Keeva almost fifty feet back, eyeing him in horror. Dwalin felt like bashing his head into a tree. Repeatedly. Of course she wouldn't want to go near the river! She'd nearly drowned in it the day before. Maybe bashing his head against an anvil the next time he was smithing would be better.

Walking back to her, Dwalin stood beside her, still mystified as to how she fell just short of reaching his hip, then motioned towards the river. Keeva gave a violent shake of her head. Dwalin motioned again, then pulled out a small scrap of cloth he had grabbed, and mimed washing his face and arms. Keeva shook her head harder, then glared.

"Nae. Nae!"

Dwalin sighed, then grabbed Keeva's scruff, hauling her up and carrying her over to the river's shore. He ignored her struggles, and placed her in the shallows of the river, deep enough to cover her waist, but no higher.

Keeva froze as her bare feet touched the water. Shocked, she curled her legs up, desperately trying to delay feeling the water's cold grasp once more. She knew that  
the large being holding her, Dwalin, wasn't it? would drop her in, but she didn't understand why he would be trying to drown her only a day after saving her from the same fate!

Dwalin thrust the small scrap of cloth into the frozen girl's hands, staring at her expectantly. When she simply stared back, uncomprehending, he grabbed back the cloth, wet it, and began scrubbing at her arms. Layer upon layer of dirt washed off of the squirming child, but the spots remained. He scrubbed harder, and harder, but still the spots stayed. He scrubbed until her limbs and face turned red, disguising the spots. Satisfied he turned his attention towards her hair. Washing the dirt from her hair, he was surprised when what he thought had been dark auburn hair, turned out to be a dark fiery red-orange.

When he'd managed to scrub her clean, he pulled them both out of the river. Pleased that he'd managed to clean off the spots, he led the way back to their camp, Keeva trailing dejectedly behind him. By the time they reached the camp, Balin had managed to pack away their supplies, and load them onto their lone pony.

Balin turned to greet them with a smile, but paused, frowning, "Brother, I thought you were going to give her a bath?"

Dwalin scowled, "What are ye on about , Balin? I gave her a scrub in the river!"

"I'm not sure if I believe you. She's got spots!"

Dwalin froze, then slowly turned to examine Keeva's scowling face. Sure enough, the angry red from the washing had faded away to pale skin, dotted with light brown spots.

Keeva glared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ori is officially 75 during the quest. For the purpose of this story. No, I don't have any real idea how old he may or may not be.
> 
>  
> 
> This ended up being much longer than I planned.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens when I haven't slept well in three days. Not entirely sure what's going on, just.... poor Dwalin.  
> Also, sorry about the shortness, originally this was supposed to be longer, but I just wasn't feeling it.
> 
> Next chapter will either be from Keeva's POV, or a quick flash to her family.

Four days had passed since the Sons of Fundin had rescued Keeva, and the edge of the forest was nearing. Four days of attempting to gesture commands and requests. Four days of being completely unable to communicate with a member of their party.

Dwalin mused that, perhaps, this was how his shield-brother, Bifur, felt constantly. It would explain why the toy-making dwarf had such a short temper. 

Dwalin wondered, as he stopped her from wondering too close to the edge of a waterfall, if Keeva hadn't been sent by Äule as vengeance for the grief he and Balin had given their mother as children. His brother had laughed when he'd mentioned it, but Dwalin was giving the thought serious consideration. In the four days since they'd rescued her, Keeva had managed to nearly get herself killed twice, once by almost wandering off a cliff, the other by climbing to the top of a large oak to retrieve some robin's eggs, and falling part of the way back down. It was a miracle she'd only gotten a few scrapes and nothing more serious. 

They were nearing the forest's end, close enough, in fact, that they could see the green plains beyond the forest's edge. Yesterday, Balin had shown Dwalin his map, pointing to a large town close to the forest as their next destination. The Man's town was almost always in need of a blacksmith, and, while Balin was able to perform basic repairs, Dwalin would be able to do finer, and therefore more expensive, work. 

Dwalin hadn't thought he'd be relieved to rid himself of the child, but he most definitely was looking forward to arriving in the town. He'd worried himself sick each time Keeva had disappeared into the brush, and been far to relieved when she’d return. He was ready for life to return to normal. No more trying to get a tiny red-head to “Sit down and eat dammit!”, no more gesturing and hoping she understood, no more trying to convince her to wear the makeshift leather boots he’d made their first full day together. No more spots-on-her-face-which-won’t-come-off-but-need-to.

No more.

Äule help him.


	4. Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's everything so far, plus a little more, from Keeva's side of things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keev'as POV. sorta. Look, I don't write kids well, ok? I work with five year olds every week, and I still don't understand their crazy minds.  
> So Keeva is clever. Really clever. I....guess? Or maybe it's just the Irish.  
> Caoimhe= Keeva  
> Tára= King/Queen. Pretty sure I just made that up  
> Me+google= Butchering of Irish Gaelic. Not sorry. Nope.  
> The tense is giving me fits in this. Sorry, yea. Also, this will start speeding up soon, I'm just trying to figure out what the heck I'm doing...

Caoimhe was confused. One moment she’d been chasing her cousin, Liam, because he’d thrown mud at her, the next, two furry beings were pulling her from a river. Tall, scary, and hairy, they pulled her out and laid her down on the ground beside the river.

 

When the bear-like one had rescued her from the river, she'd panicked. Then, remembering what her Mamaí had taught her, she sunk her teeth into his hard as hard as she could, straight through the skin. He tasted like dirt and stone.

 

When the bear-man dropped her, the white-haired one had grabbed her, and had started chatting at her in an odd, flat tongue. He'd plucked at her clothes, and ignored her struggling. White's voice had risen repeatedly, his frustration getting the better of him, until Bear had picked her up and dumped her on the opposite side of the campfire. He'd handed her a long blue woolen tunic, likely one of his own judging by the size, and grumbled at her in the same flat tongue White used. At her blank stare, he had motioned towards some bushes, then back to the clothing. Caoimhe had followed the directions of his hand, towards the clothing in her lap, then towards the bush, then again towards her lap and then the bush. She hadn't had the foggiest idea what he wanted her to do, but the water and mud on her clothes had begun to harden and itch, so she'd walked to the bushes to change. 

 

She pulled off her tattered dress, and her thin kerchief. Shrugging into the think wool tunic, she sighed happily. The thick weave is of a good quality, almost as good as what the women in her Caravan sell in the cities and towns speckled across their part of Middle Earth. The woolen tunic is a dark blue and, when put on, reaches down past her knees, ending just barely brushing her feet. She managed to salvage her belt from her old clothing, wrapping it around her waist three times, knotting it so that the secret pouch, hidden in the second layer, rested at her hip. Caoimhe had managed to slip her brooch and rings into the small pouch without Bear and White being any the wiser. She knew better than to let an Outsider see them.

 

Now, stumbling back out from behind the bushes Caoimhe stared up at Bear and White. Bear still stood in the same spot he had been in earlier. They stared at each other until Caoimhe's stomach roared. Caoimhe could feel her face heating up, and scuffed her foot in embarrassment. Bear smirked at her, motioning towards the campfire where White was ladling out a thin, weak-smelling soup into bowls. White didn't smile at her, but he didn't snarl either, like some of the Men that she and her family had traveled with in the past did.

She doesn't know if she should go ask for food, for a bowl. With the caravans it would be a free-for-all, first come first served, no matter what rank they held. Even the Tára only got food when she was on time to supper, the other meals being left to their own devices. 

Bear solved her problem relatively quickly, jabbing his finger towards where White had laid out three, three!, bowls. Plopping down, Caoimhe began wolfing down the soup, pausing every couple bites to chatter excitedly at Bear and White.

"Thank you for saving me!"  
Bite.  
"I don't know what I would have done!"  
Bite.  
"Thank you thank you thank you!"  
Bite.  
"My name's Caoimhe, by the way! What's yours?"  
She didn't wait for a response, continuing with her questions, not realizing that her new friends had stopped eating and were staring at her. She chattered for several more minutes about everything she could see before realizing that the two were staring. Hesitantly, she stopped talking, petering off until all three were simply staring at each other. 

Bewildered, Caoimhe asked for their names. “Cad is ainm duit?” She pointed at them, trying to make clear what she wanted. Both Bear and White stared back for several seconds, then, exchanging a glance, they pointed at themselves.  
“Dwalin.”Bear’s grumble held a slightly bemused tone.  
“Balin.” White sounded less than pleased.  
“Caoimhe!”She beamed at them. What odd names, why did they sound so similar? Maybe they were related? 

Hours later the night had gotten dark enough to go to bed, and Caoimhe was ready to sleep. As she sprawled across her borrowed bed-roll (it smelled like sweat and dirt), she could hear Bear, nae, Dwalin, and Balin, discussing….something in their gravel-like tongue. The last she saw before darkness overtook her was Balin dropping down to lie on the other bedroll, a sharply bitter look on his face.

 

Caoimhe had thought the next days would be awkward, and she was right. The first morning after she’d been rescued, Dwalin had decided to give her a bath, a much needed one, but a bath nonetheless. He scrubbed her all over, until her arms and legs and face were a harsh red. He scrubbed at her hair with equal fervor until she was cleaner than she’d ever been in all her five summers.

They’d packed up their belongings and started to hike not long after, keeping to forest trails, and traveling slow enough for Caoimhe to keep up. 

They travel for three more days, resting at night, until they reach the edge of the forest. It’s dark when they stop, putting their fire up close to the edge, under the canopy of trees. Dwalin sits with Caoimhe, as he’s done every night. He points out little things, teaching her their names in Westeron and Kudzul, and she the same in Ogham.  
“Fire. Noltír.”  
“Tree. Zarm.  
“Cloud. Bundu.”  
“Tine.”  
“Crann.”  
“Scamall.”  
It continue on like for several more days, until they reached a large human town. As they neared the town, Caoimhe noticed that Dwalin seemed to become grouchier and grouchier. He frequently snapped at Balin, who’d seemed nothing short of relieved when they neared the town.  
It was five nights later when things came to a head. 

Dwalin swung a bar stool, one of many from the tavern they were staying at, at Balin’s head, roaring at him. Balin fought back, and the fight ended with two broken noses, bruised faces, and Balin packing his belongings and leaving. As he left he bumped his head against Dwalin’s, then gently took Caoimhe’s hand and kissed it, then bumped his head gently against hers. He took her hand once more, and, as he did, she felt him press something small and round into her hand. He left with a crooked smile.

Dwalin walked over, picking Caoimhe up, and carrying her pack to the room they were renting. He held her gently, pressing his nose gently into her hair. No one had hugged her since she’d fallen into the river, and she leaned into it gratefully. They rested like that for several minutes, until she remembered that Balin had passed her something. Tugging at Dwalin’s beard she held out her hand, and he nudged her to show him. Opening it, she saw a small bead.  
The small bead was beautiful. Made of a deep red garnet, the stone having been carved down into a small round bead, it caught the colors in the light and shone orange. A small rune was carved into the front, and a mountain on the back.

Dwalin gently lifted the bead from her hand, and took four strand of her hair. He pushed the bead onto one of the strands, then began to braid. The braid ran from the crown of her head, down to the right, and behind her ear. As he finished braiding he tied it off with a small strip of leather, grumbling as he did. Running his hand over the braid a few times, he pulled her down, draping a blanket over her, then put out the candle.

The darkness enveloped them, promising a new day come morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mamaí- Mom

**Author's Note:**

> More or less:
> 
> Cad is ainm duit?- What's your name?  
> Caoimhe- Keeva
> 
> She's gonna be Keeva, but if anyone bothers to read this, you now know the proper spelling. Yay!
> 
> I feel like there is a lot of staring in this......


End file.
